


The First Rule of Jun

by Slippery Kick (AceQueenKing)



Category: Tekken
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Light Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:18:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/Slippery%20Kick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jun Kazama has one rule: Don't mess with her desk.</p><p>Kazuya Mishima disobeys, and that means he has to be punished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Rule of Jun

There is only one rule that every new recruit in the WWWC followed with near religious zealotry: Do Not Fuck with Jun Kazama’s desk. Jun Kazama  takes great pride in her reputation for order. She has a system. If you respect her system, there  are no problems. 

If you didn’t, and it was becoming rapidly clear that at least _certain_ employees of the Mishima Zaibatsu did not, there were going to be _problems_. Her meticulous research methods had earned her a fast promotion, but also guaranteed that she’d had to deal with underlings who weren’t quite as devoted to organization as she was. 

Jun sighs as she thinks of the WWC, of its stunning nature preserves, of the great forests that she calls home  in Yokoshima . Tokyo is always  pulsing with activity , and it is hard for her, to stay in these tiny rooms in a far too crowded city. It is nothing like Yokoshima. The only building that she had ever felt even slightly at home in here is the Mishima Zaibatsu’s fabulous head office, with the large,  _sturdy_ wooden desk and fabulously  _supportive_ filing cabinets and entirely far too  _persuasive_ CEO.

She frowns as she stares at the large amount of documents regarding the Mishima Zaibatsu’s science division that occupy the small space of her desk; she shouldn’t be distracted by her – well, whatever it  is , exactly, it certainly  isn ’t a  _relationship_ – that she’ s unexpectedly found herself in with the Mishima Zaibatsu’s charismatic leader. She has a job and she will do it, regardless of the …complications.

There is certainly enough to keep her busy; expense reports, lab reports, inventory reports, and a few soon-to-be-published studies detailing the Mishima Zaibatsu’s research methodology dot each and every bit of surface space available in the meager hotel desk. Even with the … _colorful_ picture of a kangaroo wearing boxing gloves on the cover of one of the reports, it is exceedingly dry material, and there is an awful lot of it. She has three boxes full – one for each of the past three months.

She need s to cross-reference at least 12 months to ensure an accurate audit. And – memories of Mishima’s sturdy and supportive desk be damned- she  is n’t going to let sleeping with the enemy throw her off doing what was  _right_ .

A short knock on her door jars her out of her reverie.

“Come in,” she says, and immediately wishes she hadn’t when the door opens and Kazuya Mishima swaggers in. She frowns. Kazuya is many things, but above all, he is _distracting._

“Kazama,” Kazuya murmurs and she supposes that this is what passes for a pleasant hello for him. He is carrying yet another large box of documents. His stance is stiff and straight but there is a smirk ghosting at the edges of his mouth that she knows is just for her. 

Slowly, deliberately, he sets the box down on her desk, eating up even more of her meager real estate as it swallows the expense reports for June and July. His hand reaches for hers, but she shies away. To let him touch her now is to let him take control – and she can’t afford that now.

“Couldn’t find a lapdog willing to do your dirty work for you, Mishima?” She smirks. 

She  knows she is being a bit rude,  knows she should have addressed him as Mishima-sama.  She can practically feel her WWWC superiors wince at her distinct lack of groveling, but she doesn’t  _care_ . If he wants to slither into her office like this and interrupt her  at work ,  then she isn't going to let him off so easily . She has a job to d o .

Kazuya is unperturbed. “

I prefer to swat annoying insects myself,” he says, and her lips purse, unable to come up with a good retort.  The most annoying thing about Kazuya is that he can give as good as he gets; something she knows quite well.

S he hoists his new box off of last month’s expense reports, awkwardly looking for a place to place it before gingerly bending down to set it on her  hotel room's  office chair. She feels his eyes stay on her as she bends down, and for the first time became aware of how short her shorts are. 

“August,” She hears him say quietly, and she is surprised when she turns around to catch him looking at her with an expression that is downright predatory, his lips in a triumphant smirk. He crosses his arms and stares her down. “Not that you’ll find anything.”  
  
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She copies him, folding her arms in return; she can prove she's just as intimidating, even if she is eleven centimeters shorter and six years younger. “That’s four months. I need at least 8 more.”   
  
This close, they are almost touching, she can feel his breath on her, she - 

“Humph. A waste of my time.” He shakes his head. She feels some of the tension drain out of her body as she watches him take three steps toward the door; once he's out of earshot, she sighs in relief. That man is taking up entirely too _much_ of her mind, and she can’t shake the feeling that that is perhaps his intention.

***

30 minutes later, she is eyeballs deep in August and wishing she was somewhere else. She has cross referenced, tagged, and sorted all the expense records. They are exactly as dry as she knew they’d be, and worse yet, there is nothing even remotely suspicious in their records. The worst she could say was that Dr. Bosconovitch’s laboratory went through an insanely large amount of beakers, but she could already feel her superior’s eyes gazing over if she led her investigative report of the Mishima Zaibatsu with  _that_ particular scandal.

A knock comes at the door, and, before she can even give permission this time, Kazuya Mishima strides into her office. Behind him stands Lee Chaolan, whose lips could not possibly be pressed into a firmer line of displeasure at her company. Mishima snaps his fingers, and Chaolan put s the new pile of paperwork down in the last free corner of her sardine tin  office  before turning heel and leaving the room. He nods at Kazuya before shutting the door to her office. 

She frowns. She has a feeling Chaolan's curt disappearance may have not entirely been due to his own wishes. Kazuya strides behind him, and she wonders if perhaps he will follow his brother, but then he turns to lock the door and grins back at her, triumphant.

She knows what he's hear for. The smile on his face tells her that Kazuya means anything but business, but all he says is, “Everything should be there.”

She stares at him a moment.  She is quite sure she could not find his cock-sure swagger so charming, but she does.

She clears her throat as she goes through the files – just as he said, everything does seem to be in order, but she isn’t about to give him the satisfaction of telling him that.  She can feel his eyes on her; can tell it's killing him now to touch her. 

It's a weakness Jun Kazama can work with.

She stands up straight and adjusts her clothing before turning back to face him, pushing her vest lower and undoing the top button. “So where’s the other six months of paperwork you owe me?”.

He can notice the slight change in her clothing, she can tell, by his suddenly raised eyebrows. 

“Why bother with this charade? You will find nothing.” 

She crosses the space between them and stares at him – if he is challenging her, Jun Kazama is not going to back down. “Not your problem, Mr. Mishima. I’d appreciate your  _full_ cooperation.”

A look of something unreadable crosses his eyes, and he crosses his arms and stared down at her. “You’re a fool if you think I’d be stupid enough to get caught by my own quarterlies.” His eyes are dark and angry, and she thinks, perhaps, that he resents the fact that she’s actually devoted enough to her job to still be insisting on working even while she’s seducing him. 

“Then you won’t mind me going through your files to …exonerate you.” She stares at him, unyielding eyes but with just a soft hint of an smirk on her lips. Just because they are ….together doesn’t mean that he is going to get any special treatment from her. If that is all he has come here to do, then he can leave in failure. 

He is silent for a moment, and there is something in that moment that cracks – she can see it in him, in the way he goes still for a second before giving her a downright salacious grin. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Kazama.” He draws closer to her, touches her elbow, and she realizes that he has decided to stay. “I’ve been a very bad boy.” 

He leans forward, towarding over her. She licks her lips in anticipation as he leans down, his lips on hers. A spark of electricity winds through her body, his hands insistantly cupping her rear.  She isn’t sure if it’s Kazuya or her endorphins, but there’s something about his taste that makes her feel  _alive_ . She swears she feels his lips twist into a smirk before he opens his mouth to run the edge of his tongue across her top lip. 

“But you’re not going to find a shred, a crumb…” He pauses as he bends down to kiss and gently nip at her neck. “Not a _lick_ of evidence.”

“A lick, huh?” She feels a surge of warmth sprouting in her belly. His hand goes to her chin, pulls her up towards her, and he kisses her hard then, so hard that she feels like she is drowning in what he wants. 

She bites back a moan in her throat. She strokes his hair – spiky, yet surprisingly soft – which elicits a moan in return from him. They separate and his strange, intense eyes are on her, unreadable. He pushes her towards the desk, scattering half of June’s lab reports to the ground, and she knows he wants nothing less than a repeat of their last “executive” meeting – but that was before he messed with her work, before he tried to insinuate that he was above the law. 

She groans, loudly, but pushes him away from the desk, more toward her bed. A backwards glance and he understands her thoughts, chuckles, and sits down on the bed, pulling her towards his lap. She giggles herself, allows herself to be dragged. Kazuya doesn’t need much encouragement, and his hands are roaming her body, pulling at her clothing. 

They part and she raises an eyebrow before laughing softly. “So….About that evidence…” 

“Oh, I don’t think we need to talk about that now. Do you, Kazama?” His deep voice is heavy with lust, but she feels a spark of indignation. He is distracting. He knows he is distracting her. And damn his cocky grin, he’s getting off on it, too.

He has been a bad boy indeed, and perhaps it is time she teaches him there are …repurcusions for such behavior. She stills underneath him, and he stops. She smiles but does nothing else, and he stares through her like he knows exactly what she’s planning. “Kazama…What are you doing?”  
  
“You’re under arrest, Mishima!” She smirks at the upturned quirk of his eyebrows. She pulls her WWWC handcuffs from her back pocket and, with a lightning speed she suspects that he still underestimates, she’s grabbing his hands and handcuffing them to her bedframe. 

He’s fighting her immediately, straining at the metal cuffs around his wrist. “Kazama!”  
  
She just laughs at his expense. “Serves you right. You broke my first rule, Kazuya.” 

S he kisses his cheek as he thrashes, and kisses down his neck as she whispers a warning into his ear. “Don’t. Fuck. With. My. Work.”

“Kazama…” he moans. His shocked look of anger and petulance is just a _bit_ sexy. He continues to thrash against the restraints, but they hold as they’re meant to. She loosens his tie, kisses the newly-revealed space of his neck. His hands are knotted into tight fists, and he makes no reaction, and for a moment, she wonders if she has misread him – if this is something that he does not want - but then she looks back at him and finds his eyes glazed with lust and an emotion that is somewhere between shock and want.

“Kazama….” He mumurs. “When I get out of this….” 

T he unspoken threat is every bit as predatory as his picture in her supervisor’s dossier. 

“Oh, I don’t think so, Mishima-sama.” She kisses him, but not gently. he bites his lip and she swears she hears the Zaibatsu’s all powerful CEO make a noise startlingly close to a whimper. “You’ve been a very, very bad boy indeed….and I dare say the punishment will need to fit the crime…”

She dismounts him, and she smirks when she hears what was  _definitively_ a whimper come from his lips as she moves toward her travel bag and pulls out  a scarf . For a moment, she  hesitates – will he be OK with this? Too far? 

“Kazama? Losing your nerve?” A soft chuckle from him tells her that she has been hesitating too long. She dangles the blindfold between her fingers, raises it to his eyes. He quirks one eyebrow and glares, daring her – and she feels heat pool in her belly and _lower_ when she realizes that he knows she’ll never turn down a challenge.

Without another word, she ties the blindfold around his eyes. She doesn’t give him  time to adjust or explore the sensation of it, and bends back down to kiss him hard. Her hands venture lower, dancing over his buttons, pulling his dress shirt open, gently caressing the long scar there. He breathes a sharp intake of breath on that – still not comfortable with showing her this vulnerability, even if he wears his scar like a crown in battle – and breathes in deeper gasps still as she bends down to kiss it, pulling his shirt completely off to his sides so she can see his broad chest and his slim hips.

S he likes what she sees.

If he could  see her, his hands would be all over her now, she suspects, and she smirks as she hears the sharp clink of the handcuffs as he strains his wrists against them. She decides to have a bit of mercy on him – not enough to untie him, he is a naughty boy after all – but enough to allow him the skin-to-skin contact he desperately needs. She unbuttons her own shirt, throws it aside, before moving in to kiss him, letting her chest lay flush against his own. The soft gasp of breath he makes against her mouth and the pressing hardness beneath her tells her all that she needs to know about his reaction to this scenario. 

She licks his lower lip lightly as one hand caresses the back of his neck. The other moves lower, slowly moving towards that hardness she can feel even with the fabric between them. Kazuya groans almost wantonly as she rubs him through the fabric of his no doubt expensive dress pants, the smooth fabric visibly straining to contain him. “Do you want your punishment, Mishima?” she asks, and she hears him growl her name as she undoes his zipper, repeating it as she strokes him lightly. 

“Does it really matter what I want?” A wide, malicious smile and even without being able to see his eyes, she knows they are dark and cold. “Justice is merciless, Kazama. I expect you’ll give me my ah… punishment, whether or not I like it.” 

“Oh, but I think you do.” A hand ghosts over him again, and he bucks against her hand as his breathing once again gives away his bravado. “I think you like this very much.”   
  
To illustrate, she runs a single finger up to his head, rubs a light circle that makes him glisten. “Do you want to know how much I like it?”

“Hmph. I expect you’ll tell me regardless. You never do shut up, woman.” 

She laughs and leaves him for a moment, undoes her belt and slides off her far-too-short shorts and her damp panties underneath, flinging them somewhere to the left of the bed, away from her desk. As she turns back to him, she pops the last button constraining his erection and hears him laugh as he lifts his hips up to allow her to push down his pants past those hips, pooling at his knees. He is aching for her, she knows, but she’s not ready to let him have his fun just yet.

She straddles him and he moans softly as she rubs her folds against him, shuddering despite her best efforts not to when he arches underneath her and rubs against her clit. 

“Do you feel how wet I am?” She rubs his head against her in slow, aching circles.

He moans in response, for once not giving her anything but what she wants . 

She rocks her hips slowly against him, letting his cock get wet with her juices but never quite allowing him to enter her – instead, he rocks up against her clit, giving her little jolts of pleasure that are building the heat in her stomach into something far more intense. She moan his name.

The effect on him is immediate: Kauzya’s breathing is ragged and his hands are balled into tight fits. “ D ammit woman.”

“So demanding,” Shesighs. She lets his cock rest against her entrance for a heartbeat, but doesn’t allow him to enter her. “Maybe I should let you beg for it.” 

He  is silent, frowning. S he rocks against him again. “What exactly is it you want, Kazuya?”

He arches up against her, and she moves away, not giving him the contact he craves. “Ah ah ah, Mishima.  Tell me.”

“Impossible woman.” He groans. “Let me fuck you.”  
  
“So vulgar.” She teases one last time before slowly guiding him inside of her. She takes her time, makes him feel her as she slowly lowers herself down on him, inch by inch. He growls her name into her shoulder as she takes him to the hilt, then moans when she quickly slams herself up and down again and again.

His hips begin to rise up against her fast and furious, matching her blistering pace. She can feel the mattress creak underneath them and knows she’s literally fucking him into the bed and  _fuck_ if that doesn’t turn her on more. She wants to learn in, kiss him hard, and ride him until they’re both coming hard.

His breathing is hot and ragged against her neck and she knows that he’s already close. “Mishima.”

He says nothing in response, just panting against her. His body is shaking with effort and she finds herself trembling too; he’s filling her so full and he’s hitting all the right spots and she’s so  _close_ . She feels the heat radiating in her veins from him, so close, so close – but she can tell he’s closer, her teasing having taken him over the edge. She ceases exploring his skin with one hand and slowly brings it to her clit, pushing herself over the edge. 

She moans and sinks against him, feels herself tightening around him as he hits his own release, moaning loudly as he fills her. She stays still for a moment, enjoying the feel of him against her.

“Kazama.”  
  
“Mmmm?”  
  
“Handcuffs. Off.”

She debates leaving him like this –  there's nothing to stop her from ransacking his office while hes tied up on her bed. But then again, she knows well enough to know that it's illegal, and  decides that the prisoner has had enough. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

He chuckles as she removes the blindfold and slowly releases him from the handcuffs. He looks at her and grins before grabbing her and flipping them, pushing her into the quite-indented mattress. 

“Mishima?”  
  
“Now,” he says, and there is just the slightest hint of tenderness in his cold eyes, “It’s time to teach you _your_ lesson.” 

“Oh? And what’s that, Mishima?”

“Don’t fuck with me, woman – unless you plan on not being able to walk for a week.” The predatory look in his eyes tells her he means it.

It is hours before Jun remembers that there is still paperwork to do and days before she can walk properly and somehow, she isn’t quite sure if that isn’t what he wanted all along.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Tekken kink meme, finally finished and polished for AO3.


End file.
